


Foolishness

by Bazylia_de_Grean



Series: Pilgrim's Crown [3]
Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: F/M, fluff (kind of), well as fluffy as it can be in the Inquisition times anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 03:42:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13627887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bazylia_de_Grean/pseuds/Bazylia_de_Grean
Summary: She is grateful for every moment with Thaos, she is happy that he saw her at last, and she is content... But she cannot help wishing it happened in some calmer, kinder times, when she would be able to think of everything that is on her mind without remorse.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (prompt: a character the Watcher wishes to romance, first impressions, desires)

She is sitting on the bed with a scroll in her lap, trying to read while Thaos is at his desk writing letters. A few are already lying in a neat pile, each sealed with a small, thin adra and copper medallion. Deòiridh is not familiar with that technique, but it is not difficult to guess that it is some kind of a seal which will open only to a particular person – particular soul – or after projecting a specific thought, or something along those lines. She could probably easily do that and read the messages, but she would never, and she is not even tempted to. Thaos trusts her, and she is not going to break that trust.

Determined to focus, she starts again from the beginning of the paragraph, but then her gaze slips and she glances at Thaos, and her mind immediately turns to other thoughts. It is silly, she reprimands herself, it really is, and she should be above such foolishness. But she is just a young woman, in love for the first time, and she cannot help it. Even if it feels wrong.

Deòiridh wishes she could forget about what she did, about Iovara kept somewhere in the underground cells, about those who used to be her fellow apprentices and are now imprisoned as heretics. She tries not to imagine their fate, and mostly succeeds at that, at least, but no matter how hard she tries, she cannot forget. She wishes she could.

She is grateful for every moment with Thaos, she is happy that he saw her at last, and she is content... But it is all very different from how she imagined love when she was a girl. It turns out that reality has very little romance in it, and while Deòiridh appreciates how simple it makes everything – she barely had to say anything and he already knew and it just happened; all just simply happened and it felt so right...

But she cannot help wishing it happened in some calmer, kinder times, when she would be able to think of everything that is on her mind without remorse. Cannot help wishing she could put on that single embroidered nightgown she owns instead of the simple linen shifts she usually wears under her plain robes and not feel guilty about even considering it. Wishes she would dare to properly dream of it, at least, without feeling so very foolish for even thinking of doing so.

She is a responsible adult and a devoted acolyte, and she understands very well what takes precedence, but still, she wishes they could... just be, without all the grand things in the background – in the foreground. Wishes she could take Thaos’ hand and just walk with him in the gardens, or whisper the evening prayers quietly in the silence and privacy of his chambers instead of the main chapel. Wishes she could wake in his embrace; he has so many things on his mind and so many duties that he always gets up earlier than her. Wishes she could just sit with him and read something that would not be a book on soul magic. Wishes she could just...

Thaos turns; he must have heard her thoughts. Deòiridh blushes, embarrassed, and instantly casts her eyes down on the scroll.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters. “I didn’t want to disturb you. Not with something so silly.”

“Don’t apologize.” His voice sounds as if he was explaining another theological matter; patient, similar to how he speaks during lectures and sermons, but different. Quieter, warmer. More intimate, more thoughtful; as if whatever he glimpsed in her mind touched something within him. “There is nothing foolish in yearning for happiness.” His face, when she glances up at him, has a softness to it she has not seen before, even when they... were together. “Or for peace, at least.”

Deòiridh looks into his eyes and she is struck by the calm acceptance in his gaze; immediately, she understands that unlike her, he does not dream or wish because he is fully aware that he will never have it. She stares at him, desperately trying to find words of comfort, but he asks for none, and maybe that is for the best because she does not have any. His confidence and serenity are real, but it is not the same as peace. She should have realized that earlier; she has already noticed that he does not sleep well.

Thaos is not smiling, but the line of his mouth softens. He holds out his hand. “Come here.”

Hesitantly, Deòiridh gets up, walks over to him and takes his hand; it is warm and strong, reassuring. Thaos gently pulls her into his lap, and she wraps her arms around his neck and dips her fingers into his hair, and she holds him and breathes in the smell of adra incense. He strokes her head, her back, and then puts an arm around her.

“Now is not the time,” he says quietly. “But there’s nothing foolish in it. Never think that.”

Deòiridh still finds it is silly that she thinks of laces and flowers when she should focus on more important things, on greater things; that is why she decided to become a missionary, after all. But now she discovers that inside, she is still that girl who fell in love with this man’s soul at first sight, the very moment their eyes met and she saw that inner flame reflected in his gaze.

“It’s...” She shakes her head. “It’s vanity, I know. I like how simple our life is. It’s just... I love beautiful things. And sometimes wish I had some.”

Thaos presses a soft kiss against her neck. Then he pulls away, to look at her. “But you do.” His palm cups her cheek. “You have your soul,” he murmurs against her lips. “And it’s beautiful enough that even I can see it.”


	2. Chapter 2

She focuses on her duties in the temple, and hides in the gardens as often as she can – weeding, watering, gathering the flowers for altar decorations and offerings to Eothas. Thaos lets her, without questions; he never tells her to accompany him during the trials, either. She did what he asked of her, and now he gives her time to rest.

Deòiridh knows that sooner or later she will have to attend one trial, the most important one, and see what happened to Iovara with her own eyes, and then watch as they will sentence the so-called apostate to death. She is aware of that; she guesses what is happening in the dungeons. But she never asks, and is infinitely grateful to Thaos for never telling her.

On a sunny day, in the gardens, among flowers and the buzzing of bees and the chirping of birds, it is easy to pretend that she is somewhere far away, and she relishes in it, craves and treasures each sweet moment of oblivion. It is even easier to forget at night, when she falls asleep in Thaos’ arms, still amazed and bewildered by everything that happens between them. But when she wakes up alone at dawn, when she walks along the dimly lit temple corridors, every time she sits among her fellow acolytes to dine or to eat supper, she remembers. Remembers, wonders; tries to tell herself that is how it had to be, to convince herself that she had no choice – and even though she believes it was so, it does nothing to silence guilt and remorse.

But on days like this, when the sun is warm and there is a pleasant cool breeze whispering in the branches, it is easier to forget. When her hands are busy and the air smells of flowers, it is easier to focus on other things. She repeats the soul magic exercises she learnt last evening, and then her thoughts inevitably drift towards Thaos. She imagines his eyes, like deep adra, always so serious and thoughtful, and rare moments when she could glimpse the faint spark of amusement in them. She thinks of his smile, sometimes barely visible under his facial hair; the slightest upwards curve of the corners of his lips; thinks how that smile feels when she kisses it. Recalls how it is to feel his soul next to hers when they embrace, and that strange sensation like hearing a quiet sigh of relief when she gently reaches out to touch his soul and wrap her own around it like a blanket; and that profound silence when they are one, connected in the most intimate way possible – in spirit. It always moves her tremendously that he trusts her enough to let her hold his soul. That is when she knows she is his, and his she will remain until the end of her life; that is when she knows that however dedicated Thaos is to his mission, a part of him will always belong to her as well – that small part of his soul he allows her to touch.

A warm hand taps her arm; it does not startle her because she was thinking about him, and then the thoughts easily merged into reality as he approached. Deòiridh looks up over her shoulder and smiles at Thaos radiantly; ever since he told her that her soul glows, she wants to warm him with that light; wants to shine and make his life a little brighter.

Thaos laughs quietly at her thoughts; the sound echoes down her spine in a delightful shiver, because he only ever laughs like this when they are alone in his chambers. Then, as the laughter turns into a small smile, he squeezes her shoulder. “Are you well?” he asks softly.

Are you, she thinks, but immediately shoves that thought out of her mind. She will not ask him something like this when his former – favourite – apprentice... No, she will not think of that either.

“I’m better,” she answers tentatively, getting up. It is not a lie; she feels better than even last evening. After what he told her, she feels free to weave her silly little daydreams – and as she does, she finds that maybe the reality is more satisfying. That she would rather have Thaos slip the plain linen off her shoulders and tell her she burns like a candle than put on something prettier and hear that she looks beautiful. That she is content with the fact that he appreciates her for her soul, and that one thoughtful gift is better than a bunch of flowers.

“I’m better,” she repeats.

“Take your time.” His tone is gentle. “You need rest.”

“Don’t you?” she asks before she can think of it.

Thaos watches her for a while, never breaking eye-contact. Then he reaches out; he strokes her cheek, brushes a strand of hair out of her face; his fingertips follow the length of her braid. It is such a strange picture, compared to their everyday life; it seems unreal. It is a moment out of time – just a blink of an eye, a heartbeat – and it is perfect.

“You have been thinking about flowers, haven't you?” he murmurs, ignoring her earlier question; it is a clear message he does not wish to speak of his well-being. "Those are fairly easy to arrange, soulmistress," he adds, putting a stem of pilgrim’s crown he has been holding into her hair.

Deòiridh could swear her heart flutters as if she still was that young girl on the stairs of a remote temple, and again that young girl afraid that her feelings are a sin and then being given Thaos’ blessing to love him. She starts raising her hands towards his face, and then remembers she still has the thick cloth gloves on, and even if she did not, her palms are clammy with sweat and probably dirty as well, and she stops mid-motion.

Thaos smiles. “Robes can be washed,” he says, amused, as he takes her hands in his and puts them on his chest. Then he cups her face in his palms and kisses her.

At first, his kisses are like sunlight, warm and soft, each one more and more lingering, until her lips part under his mouth and Deòiridh melts. For a moment, nothing exists but the two of them, the sweet honey scent of pilgrim’s crown, his fingers in her hair and his hand at the small of her back, and the shape of his shoulders under her palms. For a moment, she is completely happy, and her soul is blazing bright like the sun itself.

When they part to catch their breaths, Thaos holds her close and brings their foreheads together briefly. Deòiridh blinks and smiles up at him, and then giggles quietly at seeing the faint smudges of dirt on his shoulders. She pulls away, takes off her gloves, holds them by the fingers and tries to dust his robe off with the clean part of the fabric, and he patiently lets her fuss about it. The corners of his lips are curled up slightly, in that light smile she treasures so much, and by that – and the more peaceful expressions on his face – she knows he is looking at her soul.

“The delegations from Wael’s shrine will be late,” he says, matter-of-factly, but does not step away, and his fingertips are brushing up and down her spine as he speaks. “We could finish yesterday’s lesson, and then you could practice during supper. And, well, I don’t have any letters to write today.” His indulgent smile widens a little when she blushes; he finds it quite amusing how even the most subtle mention of lovemaking makes her flush. He never laughs at her or teases her about it, though; just smiles as if it was merely another lesson to learn.

Deòiridh does not mind; he is usually very solemn, and she is glad to see any signs of mirth on his face. “I... would like that,” she replies, feeling her cheeks heat up even more as inwardly she cringes at her awkward attempt at flirting. “The soul magic lesson,” she clarifies immediately, mortified; she really is terrible at this. She should stick to honest, simple love, and to straightforward answers; from now on, she will.

Thaos gently pulls her closer and holds her for a while, quietly chuckling into her hair. Then he presses a soft kiss to her temple. “There is nothing wrong with simplicity,” he murmurs, his voice solemn but soothing. “Indeed, it is better.” He turns her face towards him and looks into her eyes; he is weary and serious, but there is that softness to his gaze again, the same she noticed yesterday. “Be glad for all the simple moments in life, my little soulmistress. They don’t come often.”

Not in these troubled times, Deòiridh thinks sadly, but quickly pushes the worries away. Balancing on her tiptoes and resting her forearms on his chest, she tilts her head up and kisses him timidly, and then, after Thaos responds, with more confidence. This is all she can really give him – loyalty, devotion, and a few more breaths of simplicity.


End file.
